09 | D I S C O V E R Y

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just me and my shadows
and all of my regrets.

   "ISN'T IT OBVIOUS, Ember?", Remus asked, looking as tired as usual around full moon, but also deep wrinkles of sorrow lined his forehead

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   "ISN'T IT OBVIOUS, Ember?", Remus asked, looking as tired as usual around full moon, but also deep wrinkles of sorrow lined his forehead. The minister and Percy had left, and what they left was a mess; Mr Weasley was busy trying to calm Mrs Weasley, while their children all wore looks upon their faces that screamed bloody murder. Ember, a furious looking Harry, and Remus had decided it was best to withdraw themselves for a while, now having settled in the living room. "You've been abducted by Bellatrix Lestrange last summer. Three months you were nowhere to be found, just to reappear at Hogwarts as if nothing had ever happened. Scrimgeour is dying to get his grip around you. According to Arthur, the ministry isn't excluding the possibility that you switched sides. That you're a -"

   "Spy", Ember whispered, her eyes widened, then she shook her head. "Can't blame him, it's quite on the dice, isn't it? Returning on the side of a Death Eater's son ..."

   "Or a Death Eater himself", Harry chimed in, and it gained him a warning gaze from Remus that Ember didn't quite understand.

   "But I didn't switch - at least I think I didn't switch - I -" Ember stopped, trying to break through what felt like a barrier in the back of her mind. It was excruciating; exactly knowing that all the answers she needed lay hidden behind this border, she was still unable to unlock them. She closed her eyes, completly forgetting two pair of different shades green eyes were still watching her.

   "Emmie, maybe it's time to talk about what has happened after they took you away", Remus softly spoke, and Ember's eyes snapped open, a black shadow flashing over hazel brown orbs for the split of a second, and even though his forehead wrinkled, Remus Lupin managed to keep up that - what he hoped it was - encouraging smile on his lips. From this close, the deep dark shadows underneath her eyes seemed like threatening black abysses.

   "I can't", Ember said, lightly shaking her head, tears glittering on her lashes.

   Remus caught Harry's gaze, silently begging the boy would hold his temper, but Harry didn't seem to be even the tiniest bit as angry as he had been during the last days. Instead of the dander boiling under the skin of his young face, Remus found deep wrinkles of sorrow, making Harry look much older than he actually was.

   "Listen, Em, we just want to help -"

   "I can't!", Ember snapped, her eyes turning black once more, but with the next blink it was gone and her features softened. "Sorry, I didn't ..." She now straightly looked at Harry. "I can't. Harry, I can't remember. Last thing I clearly can remember is - is Sirius -"

   Instinctively, Remus' hand reached out for her, but in an awkward movement he let it sink back on the table.

   "I know I acted way of ... strange lately", she resumed, staring down at the table. "But whatever it was, I can't remember ... I don't know what I can't remember. There's something blocked, like I'm running into walls whenever I try to figure out. I - I think whatever it is, they don't want me to remember now I'm kinda myself again."

   Alarm sirens were yelling in Remus' head, and he felt his face drop. It was back then, when Ember had survived Voldemort's attack with not even a scratch, that they knew there was something wrong. It hadn't been love that had saved her; the spell hadn't been repelled, no scar was left, and Voldemort could just like that march on and get to Harry and Lily ...

   No, unlike in Harry's case, it wasn't love, that had saved Ember Potter. It was something different ...

   Even after he had returned home that night, Remus couldn't stop breaking his head about it, but no matter how far his mind circled, the point it returned to was always the same. The candle enlightening the words in front of him had almost burnt down, but still Remus couldn't get his eyes off of the sentences that now might forever had been burnt into his retina.

   Erebokinesis, different to other natural affinities, isn't a gift required by birth. Erebokinesis has to be planted.

   "Planted ...", Remus muttered. His head heavy, he burried in his hands, eyes tired, but his mind wide awake, repeating the words over and over, over and over. At some point, he leaned back in to his chair, feeling defeated. The book under his nose seemed to mock him.

   Remus got up from his chair. The clock was showing quarter to three in the morning, and his head was starting to send a throbbing pain through his temples. With slow steps he made his way to the empty fireplace, staring into the ashes for a while. After more than fifteen years of this unsolved riddle, it might wouldn't have made a difference if he waited for the morning to talk to Dumbledore - but for him, Remus, it did. A weight had laid down on his chest he longed to ease, and even though he highly doubted that whatever Dumbledore would tell him would somehow take the gravity, it was the sheer hope that the old headmaster as always had an ridiculously confusing solution to all of this.

   His hands were shaking, trembling, as Remus reached out for the floo powder on the shelf next to the chimney, but with his hand burried in the sand like substance, he froze in motion, his eyes being caught by something else.

   A small movement suddenly had all his attention. Laughing and fooling around, four boys not older than sixteen seemed to absolutely not care about the chaos roaring in Remus' head. James and Sirius, both now forever trapped in framed pictures, the only imprint left of them. Remus himself, even back than looking tired and older than he should, a few scars less crossing his pale face. But it was the fourth in the row that Remus couldn't take his eyes off: a chubby boy, watery eyes, but a wild grin on his face, the dirty brown hair on his head already getting thin ...

   Slowly Remus shook his head, taking his hand out of the jar, floor powder running through his fingers.

   "What have you done, Peter?", he whispered, his voice heavy and cracking, before he stepped into the chimney, letting fall the remaining powder, as he clearly spoke, "Dumbledore's office!"

—

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